


A Castle of Curses

by Greenninjagal



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dragon!Andrew, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Magic, Runaway!Neil, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:15:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9575378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenninjagal/pseuds/Greenninjagal
Summary: Neil didn't mean to be found dying in the middle of the forest. He didn't mean to be saved by a couple mysterious voices. He definitely didn't mean to wake up in a castle.After a lifetime of run, run, running and lie, lie, lying Neil has no problem preparing to leave again. But upon waking up in a the rundown castle in the middle of nowhere, and no understanding of anything other than the people in it are extremely weird and hey-- wasn't that statue in another room before??-- Neil finds himself in a predicament he's never had to face before.Neil didn't mean to stay. And he most certainly didn't mean to wake the dragon.





	1. A Breath of Death

Neil didn’t realize how much he was bleeding until he had already fallen to the frosted frozen ground. His head swam, his fleeting thoughts of _run, run, run_ took a tumble with him. His body ached with sharp slicing pain. His breath came out in shallow, white puffs. The snow numbed his cheek with it’s bitter bite.

 

_Get up get up get up_

 

Neil put forth the effort with just his internal will. His entire body screamed, but he forced himself to forget the pain, forget the agony, forget that the snow until his fingertips was slowly turning red. He grabbed the nearby tree leaving a hand print of crimson.

 

He swayed on his feet; the chill of the wind beating him back to the ground like a living being. Neil managed another step before he tumbled back to the earth. His breath was shallow, bordering on panic. He couldn’t feel his feet; he had to check to make sure they hadn’t run off without him. They were there tucked in the dismal stolen boots he’d acquired that weren’t even right for this time of year. His clothes stuck to his skin cold with melted snow and draining his body heat away. Neil grabbed his abdomen his cumbersome fingers as if he could stop the wound from bleeding.

 

He knew he had better chances at stopping the world from turning.

 

His tunic was stained red over the other various scrapes and holes and marks. The knife wound had torn apart his stomach, like butter.

 

 _Magic_ , Neil recognized bitterly. Of course it had been magic. His body shivered, pulling the dried clumps of blood off the cloth and adding to the scarlet stream underneath him. Cold, he decided, was no longer an adjective or a noun. It was a being-- Neil’s being to be exact. He was going to die here, alone, and so cold he couldn’t move even if he wasn’t bleeding out.

 

He should have been panicking more. Neil had spent so many years just trying to survive, trying to live, trying to be anything and nothing, all to be lying here in the end. He knew his mother, damned be her soul, was screaming and writhing in her grave. All their efforts wasted because Neil got careless.

 

He wondered if he would bleed out first or if the frigid air would swallow his soul and carry him far from his useless body. Neil coughed weakly, and blood spluttered out.

 

He wouldn’t mind dying, he thought. After all, there were worse ways to die. He thought back half heartedly to the sickening squech his mother’s chest had made, the liquid fire that had drained from her...everything, the incense of mint and smoke that curled over her body. He remembered the weight of her over his shoulder, the taste of her hair in his mouth because he couldn’t possibly carry her without it finding it’s way in there, the rasping of her warm breath as she repeated things he already knew, things she had told him never to forget.

 

There were definitely worse ways to go. The rhythm of her phantom voice commanding, never asking, him to _Run Run Run_ because the men would find him. The smell of blood, the copper taste of it in his mouth now. Neil decided he didn’t mind dying here as long as he wasn’t wearing black and red.

 

Death took it’s time. Neil knew he started crying at some point, and the tears froze to his cheeks. Time drifted. The world drifted. Neil drifted.

 

A breath and a curse.

 

Somewhere nearby. Neil couldn’t find it in himself to open his eyes. Chilled snow had frozen his eyelids close. The winter had always been Neil’s least favorite season. It had zapped away his strength until Neil wasn’t sure he could even move a finger anymore.

 

“Holy Shit!” A voice loomed from the darkness, a whirl of sound among the wisps of thought that had kept Neil company far longer than anyone else.

 

“Aaron! Get over here!”

 

Crunch of snow, loud noises, Neil couldn’t feel his body. Somewhere along the line the cold had turned so torturous he went numb. He was dimly aware someone was nearby, darkness fogged his brain, politely waiting to drag him into a warmer embrace of sleep he wouldn’t wake from. Neil was only still alive by his own instincts--the voice in his head whispering _get up get up get up run run run lie lie lie._

 

“--can’t take him!”

 

“He’s going to die!”

 

“ _We’re_ going to die!

 

Neil tried to make a sound, something, anything, but he didn’t know why. Would he tell them to leave him? Would he ask for help? Would they bury his body when the eternal sleep claimed him? Neil wasn’t sure if he had succeed, the fog in his brain clotted until it felt like he was wading through honey just to breathe.

 

_Run run run_

 

“--our time’s almost up-”

 

The voices grew harder to hear. Neil found himself thankful. A sorrow was in his soul singing about how he shouldn’t be thankful, but Neil casted it away. He had spent so long not trusting others, running and lying and pretending, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of feeling thankful. Much less in the haze of his thoughts. Much haze slipping and falling and embracing the end.

 

No more Running.

 

“--Andrew is going to kill us.”

  
Neil let everything go black.


	2. Cats and Statues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil wakes up in --surpise!!-- a castle. There's a cat, a statue and nice girl who claims to be a cook, a not-so-nice guy who barely spares him a glance, a guy touching way too much, and a suit of armour that asks if he can climb a tree.

Neil had more than one good reason to hate magic. It had been a constant in his life since he had been born-- no since before he was born. Neil had probably seen more magic in his life than most mages who messed around with it for fun. 

 

Neil’s mother hated magic. She hated the idea of it, the flow of it, the smell of it. Once while on the run, Neil had met a girl who was intrigued by what he could do. He had showed her of course, and when his mother had found out she had beat him so hard that whenever he even thought about the substance flowing in his veins he could feel the smack of her palms. Magic was not tolerated, unless it was for the pendant hanging around his neck.

 

His mother had never mentioned it, but Neil suspected that he was born under a love potion.

 

It didn’t matter much that neither of them used magic in obvious ways. Only about five percent of the entire world could. And of them only two percent could wield it well enough to do anything with it. Neil would have been part of the two percent if his mother hadn’t taken him and ran.

 

It was hard for Neil not to hate the obliviousness of the days before he had run. The days before the world had bowed before the Raven King Riko. The days when all he had to do was be quiet and still and he wouldn’t have to worry about a spare bolt of energy turning his spine to fire.

 

His history with magic was rocky, but it was the only thing Neil could think of that had saved him, and he was torn between being thankful and being annoyed. 

 

Neil did not hate magic.

 

He couldn’t. Not when he had seen the things it could do. His mother had been insistent that it was the worse curse that humanity could have received, but Neil who had felt the burn of fire, the agony of electricity, who had endured more pain from magic than from anything else, still found it hypnotizing. He didn’t use magic, but it didn’t stop him from watching.

 

Or wanting.

 

He woke up in a dust filled room, a bed chamber really. Something far beyond the expenses of a normal tavern. The room was larger than most places Neil and his mother had slept while on the run and it instantly made his skin crawl. He was still in his own clothes, but there wasn’t a scratch of dirt on them. His boots were neatly placed at the foot of the far too comfortable bed.

 

The air smelled sweet and frigid: a majestic smell if Neil had ever smelled one. He was still in his commoners clothes, the grey tunic still ripped and stained in all the places Neil could remember. His dark leggings still ripped at the knees. Neil forced himself into a sitting position with more trouble than he could remember the action being. He didn’t feel an ounce of pain.

 

If anything that made Neil feel more sick than relieved. That meant someone had used magic on him, that meant someone had been with him while he was unconscious. Someone might have seen the red irritated mark on his shoulder blade, the crest of arms that still burned with phantom pains when he thought too hard about the scent of burning flesh.

 

_ “There. Now even if you run, they will know who to return you to.” _

 

His hand found it’s way immediately to the pendant around his neck. It was warm to the touch, a sign that it was still in effect. A sign that Neil was still Neil and not someone else. The feeling inside him was still not relief.

 

His brain concocted an appropriate response of swinging his legs over the side of the bed and shoving on his boots. His mother’s voice was always silent when he heard his father’s, but the instinct was meshed with his blood. He was running before he had even realized he didn’t have his dagger. 

 

The dagger and his belt, both worn hand-me-downs that were better stolen than bought, rested upon a bedside table. It didn’t look like anyone had touched it beyond removing it to lay him down, but Neil still picked it up like it was an enchanted amulet. The grip was quite fitting to his own, but it was close enough to make do. There was dried blood still left on the leather wrapped handle, and the blade need to be sharpened soon if Neil was going to cut anything with it. He gridded it around his waist and the familiar weight grounded him in the moment. 

 

_ Run run run. _

 

Neil made it to the door before realizing he wasn’t alone in the room.

 

There was a hiss and the sound of claws on stone. Neil whipped around palming his dagger, his nerves racing out of his body and into the air. The faint scrap was nothing any normal person would care about but Neil, so used to sounds of silent meaning sounds of danger, felt his heart beat in his throat.

 

His eyes scanned the lavish room, rolling over the thick red curtains checking for lumps in the fabric, chasing every shadow, nailing every odd shape. His heart nearly stopped when he saw the hazel eyes staring right back at him. 

 

Neil didn’t move, but the other form had no problem. It slipped from the corner under an opulent chair that was coated in dust. A sleek body of orange, with blonde wisps of circles across its body. It moved with a purpose, every step flexing its powerful legs, the sound of claws tap tap tapping their way towards Neil. The tabby cat watched him with a glimmer of an all-too-human feature: unimpressment.

 

Neil never really had a problem with animals before. Granted he was no dark haired, singing princess in the woods, but if he gave a dog or two a piece of stale sourdough bread, they generally made sure no one killed him in the night. Neil wasn’t stupid enough to think that they could really understand him, but for some reason the look in the cat’s eye conveyed a silent, unnerving message.

 

He replaced his dagger and reached for the door handle. The feel of the brass under in fingers reminded him that he had no clue where he was or who was with him. Except for the cat that watched him intensely, it’s sun dried tail flickering to one side or the other with sharp quick movements. Neil had no trouble imagining an arm wielding a knife with such precise deadly movements. 

 

The door opened soundlessly. The hall was long but wide made of grey stone weathered down. Neil casted a look to the ceiling where chunks and pieces had fallen out or been blown out some long time ago. Clumps of snow melted the color from the carpet in certain places and the icy wind ruffled through Neil’s hashed outfit. He had lost his cloak back in the woods somewhere, losing it instead of his life in a mad dash to escape the swords, and he could only wish he had it back. He shivered, his breath came out in a deep puff. Sunlight snaked in through the holes giving the impression of midday. Neil wondered how many days he had been lying in that room. Then he wondered how he had frozen to death in his underdressed attire.

 

“I hate magic,” Neil sighed, but it was a lie on his tongue.

 

The cat flicked its tail, suddenly more interested in Neil than it had seemed before. Neil chalked it up to the sound of his voice.

 

The halls were furnished with decaying tapestries and picture frames without people in them. The gold frames were elegant in a way that suggested once there was a surplus of funds lyin around. The wind howled through the holes suggested that those times were long gone. Neil picked a direction and started down it, walking on the balls of his feet as to not make much sound.

 

The cat hissed and arched it’s back. Neil glanced back at it.

 

The glowing hazel eyes dipped from him to the opposite direction. It sprang over a pile of snow and headed away from him. Neil watched for a moment, confused, until the tabby seemed to realize it was still walking alone and inclined it’s head back.

 

Neil stared.

 

It showed it’s teeth and hissed again in a vaguely threatening manner, and then it nodded it’s head towards the way it was going.

 

“You want me to follow?” Neil guessed, then tried not to feel like an idiot because he was talking to a cat that couldn’t possibly understand him. The cat made a low growling sound, almost like irritation, and then headed down the hall.

 

The wind whistled and Neil shivered. He gave himself another moment of thought before he followed the animal. At the very least, the cat could show him to the kitchen.

 

The thought of food made Neil’s stomach growl. He knew he hadn’t eaten in awhile, but the sudden reminder felt like a punch in the gut. He nearly stumbled over a discarded wooden beam. What had been the last thing he had eaten? Neil thought it might have been a piece of bread or maybe it was some fruit his nimble fingers lifted from the shitty markets however long ago that had been. A couple days? Neil didn’t know if it had been the morning when he had walked straight into the attack or if it had been the day before.

 

Neil had been so use to the feeling, or maybe so concerned about the cold that he hadn’t even noticed he was starving. The thought made him feel more pathetic than normal.

 

The cat let out an angry yowl noise. Neil jumped rushing forward to follow it, before feeling silly because it was just a cat. What was it going to do? Scratch him? Neil rubbed the smooth skin of his abdomen, wondering if it would console him more for there to be a scar left. Whoever had healed him must have found him before the magic of the wound had completely drained away.

 

Neil had plenty of other scars that wouldn’t heal.

 

Following the cat became easier as he went. Even if it leapt over broken stone bits, or flipped chairs and piles of elaborate armour, the bright orange was hard to miss. Neil kept his eyes and ears open for the sound of anyone else, but every time they rounded a corner or entered a new hall no one approached them. Neil found it unnerving. He was aware he was in a castle, a worn out, decrypted one at that, but a castle nonetheless. Shouldn’t there have been people running around, carrying out chores and jobs with head down because if they made eye contact they were as good as dea--

 

_ \---The pain ripped across his face crashing on him like waves on the frothing shore. His pulse raced, his hands shook, his body was screaming. He was screaming. He knew better than to cry, he knew better than to try and stop them, than to beg. A sneer glowered down at him, the ugly blackness that came from the other side of such beautiful curses--- _

 

Neil staggered grabbing the wall to steady himself. The sound of laughter was ringing in his ears. He force himself to remember it was different now, everything was different. There was no black and red, only Neil’s dark grey and the orange and cream tabby. The cat was waiting for him impatiently at the corner, reflective hazel eyes trapping the midday sun.

 

Neil gave himself a shake and followed after the cat. A different time, a different place. Neil wished he could shed the memories like he could shed names. 

 

The castle was quiet. They walked easily deeper into the maze, at a productive pace. The  cat made a game out of jumping snow piles and ducking under small holes in the fallen rocks. Neil did his best to work around the obstacles, wondering how someone could have possibly brought his unconscious body all the way to that far room without giving up. One part of the ceiling had fallen completely out and covered in blinding snow so that Neil had no choice but to clamber over the uneven chunks. 

 

He tripped over the last bit stumbling ungracefully. For a second he thought he heard a giggle but when he looked up and around wildly, there was no one but him and the cat in the hall. The feline paused just enough to glare at a fallen painting lying on the ground. It was bordered with a rough wooden frame painted in gold and the picture displayed a woman with dark skin standing with a straight back. Her pose was strange, but in a way Neil couldn’t quite place. She looked too natural, to normal, a bit too much like she was uncomfortable, which Neil was certain you never painted someone looking. Her face was blank, and eyes...Neil could have sworn they blinked for a second. 

 

The cat hissed at him to keep moving. Neil gave the picture one last look and then turned away.

 

Just when Neil was certain the cat was merely walking wherever it choose, they arrived at the top of a staircase. This part was clearly more used than the others. The carpet was well worn, footprints here and there of mud and dirt, which meant the maids hadn’t been by yet. Neil felt for them, whoever had been through obviously had never tried to get smeared mud from a red carpet before. 

 

A chandelier, a real one made of a thousand glass crystals and candles and encircled with black bars was lying on the ground in a corner. A mess waiting to be picked up Pieces and bits of glass were scattered across the room as if a whirlwind had moved through. Tapestries were ripped and torn and forgotten in random increments all about. The staircase railing was missing about half way down and two steps were broken in on themselves at the bottom. The cat jumped them without any particular pause. Neil nearly tripped. 

 

The most interesting thing, Neil thought, had to be the unfathomable placing of the statue in the middle of the room. It was full sized, a human wearing an elegant tunic with a crest Neil wasn’t knowledgeable of. The man had a look of shock and dread on his face, as if the sculptor had managed to catch him exactly a second before he was stabbed through the heart by his best friend. It was uncanny to look at.

 

Once again the feline walked past it without a glance, letting out a nipped meow when it thought Neil had been looking too long. 

 

Neil wondered what had happened here. His heart thumped in his chest to a sullen beat. He spun around looking at the destruction because how could he not? He had woken up in this castle, but it looked and felt like it had been in disrepair and abandonment for years. Possibly back from before Riko Moriyama had risen from ashes and took over the world by force.

 

The cat hissed again, scratching its claws against the rough wood where other deep marks had been made. Neil could almost picture some giant war being fought right here in the entry chamber, swords ringing out, metal on metal, ragged breaths and yells and the floor dripping with blood.

 

There was no blood on the ground. Just mud, ripped tapestries, and a misplaced statue. The cat took a bit at Neil’s ankle, not hard or deep, but enough for it to be a warning. He wasn’t exactly impressed with it’s bite, but he took it all the same. He let the cat lead him from the room, trying to feel like the eyes of stone were following him.

 

They meandered their way towards one of the lower floors. The halls became narrower, the walls more intact and decoration still hanging. Worn out portraits hung the walls, their colors faded. Neil didn’t recognize any of them. At the end of the hall the last frame was covered with a black veil, signifying a death. This the cat did look at, and Neil took notice too. The silk was unnecessary: underneath it the canvas had been stabbed and cut and hashed out so that Neil wasn’t sure if the portrait had been of a king or a queen or someone’s dearly beloved fruit basket.

 

The cat’s ears folded back and it plunged on as if the delay had been inevitable but necessary. Neil rested his palm on his dagger hilt. He could hear other sounds now. He refused to let relief flow over him until they had emerged from the hall to a grand dining area. It was fit to hold several hundred people, but the tables were flipped or moved or broken in places. Only one remained fully intact and usable in the middle of the room, benches lined either side. The cat easily walked underneath it, but Neil had to scurry around, feeling annoyed when the cat glanced back at him as if to smirk.

 

The sounds were clearer now, some singing, rattles of pots and pans and footsteps. The sweet smell of something roasted drifted from the servants hall, which Neil knew led directly to the kitchen. The cat went in and after only a second's hesitation, Neil followed.

 

“Oh there you are,” a kind voice said as the singing stopped. It was quiet and collected, but in a way that it could have also stopped wars. It belonged to a girl maybe two years older than him, but certainly not more. She was regal, with a kind face and quiet eyes. She wore a simple maids dress, of orange and white and a pink flower over her left ear. She was cooking something in the background of the kitchen, and moving swiftly around the rectangular room. 

 

At first Neil thought she had been talking to him, but the cat let out a growled reply and she laughed. 

 

“I’m almost done,” She spoke as if it could understand. “Though I left my basket of herbs by the garden doors.”

 

The cat cocked it’s head to the side and dashed from the room. Neil watched it go with surprise. He must have made a sound or something because the girl finally paused long enough to look at him.

 

“Oh!” She said, setting a bowl of soup that smelled delicious. Neil felt his stomach growl again. “You must be Aaron’s friend.”

 

“Aaron?” Neil repeated.

 

“You were really out of it when he carried you in. Said he found you bleeding in the woods. Are you alright?”

 

Neil blinked, “Uh, yeah. Was he the one that healed me?”

 

She smiled in a way that made Neil uncomfortable. Not because it was hostile or anything, but because it was nice. Neil had learned repeatedly never to trust people with nice smiles. That was one of the things his mother had whispered to him in her ragged breath before she died.

 

“You must be hungry,” She said, “Would you like some?” She motioned to the stew, which admittedly Neil did want. His mother’s ghost reminded him of how many different poisons could hide in the broth. Neil hadn’t said anything but the girl was filling a bowl anyway.

 

“I’m Renee,” She said. “I cook and clean around here while the others are busy.”

 

Neil wanted to point out she had missed a huge section in the main hall, but he refrained. Instead he merely asked, “Others?”

 

Renee handed him a spoon. “Yes. There’s a group of us here. You might seen them later. What’s your name?”

 

_ Lie.  _

 

“Neil.” Neil said, all too aware of the sound of his mother voice in his head. He wished, not for the first time, she would stay dead. Renee gave him another one of those smiles, a pleasant happy one that almost made Neil feel bad for not giving her his real name. He tried to drown the guilt a spoonful of soup. It was a little brothy but Neil told her it was good anyway. It was after all the first thing he had eaten in awhile.

 

She was about to reply when a man walked through the doorway behind him. He was short, blonde hair white in the bleached sun, his tunic was a rich orange, with a crest on it, the same on the statue in the other room had. He had a scowl on his face with deep marks in his pale skin as if he was unable to have any other emotion displayed. In his hand was a wicker basket that brought the sharp smells of herbs into the kitchen.

 

“These?” He asked Renee, barely giving Neil a glance.

 

“Yes thank you, Aaron.” She took the basket and placed it on one of the counters. Neil couldn’t help but analyse how she moved. There was something about it, a majestic quality as if everything she did had a known reason and purpose, down to a single swing of her hand. “This is Neil by the way.” She told the other man, “He’s the one you saved out there in the woods.”

 

Aaron looked back at Neil, this time pausing long enough to take in Neil’s ragged appearance. Neil was all too aware that he probably looked like he’d been on the run for several years, and not that it was far from the truth (okay it was the truth), but he still found it annoying that the other man seemed to judge his worth on that. 

 

“How long until you’re gone?” He asked Neil.

 

“Aaron, he’s a guest,” Renee reminded him kindly, while filling another crafted bowl with the soup. In his, Neil noticed, she sprinkles a bit of one of the plants. Neil had been living in and out of the cities for most of his life. His mother had made sure he knew every plant apart from one another, which ones were poisonous, which ones were safe, which would give rashes, and which could heal most diseases. Up until Neil had stumbled into the Raven Camp lookouts, he had kept a duffle on him that had most know herbs in it. Neil did not recognize the plant she added to Aaron’s.

 

“He can stay until he feels well enough to leave,” Renee said, “and it snowed last night. Do you really think he should be out in the fresh snow without support?”

 

Aaron didn’t look like he cared if Neil dropped dead right there in the kitchen. He flicked a cool gaze at Renee as she offered the bowl to him and gave a spoon with it.

 

“I’ll be in my study,” He said and left cursory, bowl in hand, and not another look back.

 

If Renee was put off by it, she merely tapped a spoon against a bowl and hummed a thoughtful tune. Neil chewed a portion of meat. He couldn’t quite imagine someone such as Aaron finding kindness in his heart enough to save Neil and bring him back here. The man looked just as willing to let him die. But he didn’t voice any of this to Renee. 

 

“His study?” Neil asked. 

 

Renee looked at him, “Aaron spends all of his time in the library. At least when he’s not making runs to town. He thinks he’s going to find something extraordinary in those old books one day. I’ll have to ask Dan to check up on him before I…” She gave him a glance Neil couldn’t read, “go.”

 

Neil asked where she was going. 

 

“There are some things I have to do,” She said with a sigh, as if they were undesirable things to do, but had to be done anyway. Neil nodded in understanding, though he felt like he really didn’t. She looked out a nearby snow dusted window as if judging the time.

 

“Wymack should be here soon.” She said, “So will Nicky and Matt.” She turned her eyes on him, “Wymack was captain of the guard here. He’s like a father to all of us.”

 

Neil swallowed uneasily, seeing an opening and taking it. He still felt embarrassed when he asked, “And where is here...exactly?”

 

She blinked and opened her mouth to answer. But before her melodic voice could fill the air another figure came sprinting into the room.

 

“Hey!” He yelled, practically grabbing Neil in a hug, Neil didn’t even have time to flinch out of it-- that man was already moving on to Renee, who bared his affection with a laugh. “Hey!”

 

He let go of her and stretched up to the ceiling as if he had been sitting at a writing desk all day. Neil got his first good look at the guy, while trying to mop warm broth off his tunic. He was eerily familiar, which put Neil on edge. He ran threw the towns he had been in before his run in with the Ravens, but found he could not place the man’s face.

 

“Oh man, oh man! I feel so much better right now.” He said, curly black hair bouncing as he nodded and tapped his feet to a rhythm only he could hear, “I am starving! Renee you’re a beautiful goddess, you know that? Of course you do! It smells great in here.” He turned back to Neil, “You! You’re the guy Aaron was helping, aren’t you? Man, you must have looked bad if you got even Aaron to use energy on you. Once I broke my arm in the orchard falling from a tree and the brat-- sorry, I guess I should call him the prince, but he’s still my brat cousin-- he wouldn’t even stifle the bleeding. He told me it was all my fault and I should deal! Can you believe that?”

 

Neil’s brain whirled trying to keep up with the man’s fast talking. It was like listening to the buzzing of bees, which rumbled on and on. Did he breathe? Neil wasn’t sure he had seen the guy actually breathe. 

 

Renee placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Nicky, this is Neil. He’s new to the castle and will be staying a couple of days until the snow melts a little.”

 

Nicky raised an eyebrow, “And Andrew is okay with this?”

 

Renee handed him a bowl of soup with a tight smile, the first crack Neil had seen in her calm demeanor. “It’s not Andrew’s castle is it?”

 

Nicky whistled, “Oh boy.” He looked warningly over at Neil, taking in the sight of dark hair and brown eyes that Neil knew he still had. The pendant around his neck felt a bit like a noose. “Good luck.” Nicky clutched the crest on his chest, “Andrew will not be happy.”

 

The smaller girl gave him a disapproving frown, “Andrew will need to get over himself.”

 

“He’s going to smite us all.” Nicky said, with a grin that didn’t match his somber tone. He opened his arms out to Neil again, as if he was going to hug him, but Neil dipped out of the way.

 

“I don’t like being touched.” He said.

 

“Oh right sorry, Neil, my man.” Nicky leaned across a marbled counter, “So where are you from? What brings you to our little castle in the middle of the woods? Got a girl back home? Or a guy, you know if you swing that way. Please tell me you swing that way. It would be the shame in all of Riko’s sucky dictatorship if you didn’t.”

 

“Excuse me?” Neil said.

 

“Oh come on, Neil. A guy like you doesn’t have anyone looking for him, waiting for him at home?”

 

Neil went cold inside, as if someone had snuffed out the candle in his chest. He was all too aware of all the exits in the room, and the weapons to be made from bowls and pans and easily reached knives. Neil feel his skin itch, and his dagger was burning to be used.

 

“No.” He said shortly, “I don’t.”

 

Nicky looked nonplussed as well as offended, “This won’t do--”

 

“HEMMICK!” 

 

Nicky shot to attention, “That is my cue!” He pointed at Neil, “We’ll continue this later--”

 

Then he was gone leaping out of thr room and whirling around the corner so fast he left dust in his wake. Renee gave another small sigh as if this was a daily occurance in the crippled old castle.

 

The hall was filled with a clatter, a heavy metal agianst metal noise that sounded awful. Neil winced and looked at the blonde girl for a sigh that something was admist. She merely scooped more soup into a bowl and hummed a low tune under the sound. 

 

The sound turned out to be a suit of armour. Well, Neil assumed it was the man inside the suit of armour, but since he kept his face gaurd down and body rigid, Neil felt it was approite to call him just a suit of armour. He wore the same crest as both Nicky and Aaron, but with an aura of pride that niether of the two had expressed. 

 

It was too dark inside the helmet to see the man’s eyes but, Neil knew he was being looked over when the clanging stopped short. There was an iron sword draped along his side, but Neil doubted the man could hold it in the cumbersome leather gloves and heavy arm protectors.

 

“Walker!” A voice, the voice that had been calling for Nicky boomed out, “Any eyes on the Duke?” 

 

“He just ran off, I’m afraid, Gaurd Captain. Would you like some soup?”

 

He made a grunt that almost sounded offended, “Walker, you know and I both--” He stopped glancing suspicously back at Neil, who nervously place a hand on his his pendant. “Who are you?”

 

“Neil. Josten.” Neil answered, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He placed the bowl on a counter freeing his hand to rest on his dagger hilt. He looked at Renee for comfirmation which she gave in the form of a nod.

 

“You said Hemmick ran off?” Gaurd Captain Wymack asked her agian. 

 

She nodded again.

 

“You,” Wymack pointed a finger at Neil, “Can you climb?”

 

Neil thought it was a ridiculous question but answered all the same, “Yes?”

 

“Good, come with me. If you’re going to be around, I might as well put you to work.” Wymack motioned for him to follow. And Neil glanced back at Renee long enough for her to motion that it was okay. She looked a bit ill, actually. Now that Neil saw her. Her face was pained, beads of sweat on her brow. 

 

“Bye Neil!” She called, her voice sounded strained and raspy, as if she had caught the flu while they were just standing there.

 

Wymack didn’t seem all too concerned. He waved Neil through the door, pausing only long enough to grumble something about her getting rest.

 

Then he was lightly moving Neil through the corridor away from the kitchen at a brisk pace.

  
Neil didn’t see Renee again for the rest of the day.


End file.
